


So What is the Difference

by YvaJ



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvaJ/pseuds/YvaJ
Summary: When Willy Wonka asks a question about sports, he gets more than what he bargained for.





	So What is the Difference

**So What _is_ the difference?**

By: YvaJ

“So here I was sitting and watching the tube,” Willy was telling Charlie one night over dinner. His expression was filled with the same typical lightheartedness that he carried around with him on a daily basis. “And all of the sudden, a whistle blows and the announcer says ‘off sides’, which I didn’t really understand, but that’s not the point.”

“Were you watching football, Willy?” Charlie piped up over his plateful of mashed potatoes. “I thought you ‘loathed’ sports.”

“No, I don’t loathe them, I just don’t like them,” Willy said smirking as his attention shifted and he looked to Mr. Bucket for some insight to this baffling turn of events. The patriarch of the family was avidly listening as were Grandpas George and Joe. “Do you like sports, Mr. Bucket?”

Before he could respond, George grumbled something under his breath about England not qualifying for the latest tournament while Joe shrugged his shoulders.

“I have watched more than my fair share of matches,” Mr. Bucket said honestly. “Of course, I prefer rugby to football.”

Charlie nodded, “so who was playing, Willy?”

“I don’t know, there were some guys in red t-shirts, and some guys in white t-shirts. The two guys at the far ends of the playing field were dressed in black and green, but Charlie that’s not the point,” Willy said. “I was in the Television Room, and I thought about putting a candy bar into the middle of the playing field and seeing what would happen.”

“Testing the television candy invention again, weren’t you?” Grandpa Joe asked.

Willy nodded, as he released a small giggle. “Yeah, but before I could ask the Oompa Loompas to get a massively huge chocolate bar ready for transport, I got to wondering, what’s the difference between ‘football’ and ‘soccer’.”

“There is no difference,” Grandpa George muttered as he stuffed a forkful of peas into his mouth.

“No, George, there is a difference geographically,” Mr. Bucket interjected. “In America, they call ‘football’, ‘soccer’.”

“Why?” Willy asked. “If it’s football and they play it with their feet, then why do they call it ‘sock her’?”

Charlie began to laugh. _This conversation is not happening,_ he thought. At that moment, however, he was grateful that his mentor was obviously not an armchair quarterback, or goal keeper, as was the case here. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried to stifle his amusement.

“I don’t think hitting women is very funny, Charlie,” Willy objected directing a cross look at the boy. He turned to the woman seated across from him, a tiny pout turning down his lips. “Right Mrs. Bucket?”

“No Willy, it’s not,” Mrs. Bucket responded diplomatically, but her eyes began to dance merrily as she continued speaking. “But, I think you misunderstood, it’s not ‘sock her’, it ‘soccer’ spelled ‘s-o-c-c-e-r’.”

“That’s a stupid name,” the chocolatier grumbled. “If it’s played with the feet, then why not call it ‘football’? That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“Because in America they have something else called ‘football’,” Grandpa George muttered.

“What?” Willy asked.

“Charlie, why don’t you go and get your father’s sports almanac out of our room?” Mrs. Bucket suggested.

“OK, Mum,” the boy said as he wiped his mouth before getting to his feet and leaving the room.

At that moment, Mr. Bucket exchanged a tired glance with Grandpa Joe, his eyes pleading with his father to help him with this explanation. _This could take a while,_ he thought with a sigh. He cut himself a bite of chicken and ate it.

Once he had swallowed the food, Charlie had returned with the almanac and Mrs. Bucket began to clear off the table so as to make room for the large book.

Willy inched closer to his heir as Grandma Josephine got up to help her daughter-in-law with the clean-up. Grandma Georgina stayed seated at the table and looked over at the men who were now crowded around the book.

“Now, this is football in America,” Mr. Bucket pointed to one of the pictures. The players' shoulders were completely covered with pads and braces and a strange looking helmet covered their head.

“That’s football?” Willy asked. “They look like ‘Transformers’, just like in that recent movie we watched, Charlie.”

Mr. Bucket nodded. “This sport is very popular in the States. Besides they have to have the protection because it’s considered a contact sport.”

“Why?” Willy turned up his nose. “I couldn’t even move in so much padding. How do they run?”

“They manage,” Mr. Bucket said. “But they have to have that extra padding to protect them when they get tackled.”

“Tackled?” Willy looked positively horrified. “You mean people play this for fun?”

“Yes, the Americans generally love it,” Mr. Bucket said.

“Okay, so why does the ball look like a strangely shaped wangdoodle?” Willy asked. “How do they kick a ball like that around the playing field? Aerodynamically, it’s simply not possible, and I should know because I am an inventor.”

“They don’t always kick it, mostly they throw or carry it,” Charlie explained.

“With their hands?” Willy asked.

“Of course with their hands,” Grandpa George snapped. “How else do you expect them to make a touchdown?”

“I don’t know,” Willy muttered good-naturedly. “So if they pass and carry it, then why don’t they just call it ‘handball’?”

“Because handball is something else, Willy,” Mr. Bucket turned a few pages and the Amazing Chocolatier was left looking at a picture of a man throwing a ball to his teammate. Their clothing looked to be a lot less bulky than in the previous picture. In fact, they looked to be rather similar to the players he had seen the night before. “That’s handball, Willy.”

He stared for several moments at the page before looking at his protégé. “So let me get this straight. In America they have a game called football that is played with the hands, but there’s no contact with the feet?”

“Of course there is,” Charlie said. “After the team gets a touchdown they have to try and kick the ball between two goal posts.”

“Where’s the net, or the goal keeper?” Willy asked.

“There isn’t one, you’re getting football and soccer mixed up,” Grandpa George said with a scowl.

“But, what’s the _difference_?” Willy asked, his eyes closing momentarily as he shook his head.

“Football in Europe is Soccer in America,” Mr. Bucket said patiently. “That’s all you really need to know.”

Willy arched an eyebrow as he turned and looked at Grandma Georgina. “Were you the only one here who has no idea what they’re talking about?” he asked.

Grandma Georgina cocked her head to one side and spoke, a broad smile crossing her aged face as her words filled up the Buckets living room. “I like peas…”

Willy smiled. _Well, at least she didn’t say ‘football’,_ he thought wryly. _I should seriously stick to candy and not get myself confused with all this sports stuff._

After that night, Willy Wonka made a firm decision that sports were far too complicated for him.

_I will have to find something else to watch when I try out my television chocolate invention,_ he thought. _Maybe this thing called ‘Oprah’, would be a lot less confusing…_


End file.
